A Day Well Spent
by BadLuckIsMyThing
Summary: Katniss and her father enjoy a fun day in the woods a few years before he dies. R


The dead brown leaves crunch under our feet as my father and I trudge through the forest. The air around us is filled with the sounds of life—birds chirping, squirrels scurrying up trees, and, of course, singing mockingjays. I hear the birds' songs echoing throughout the trees, and evidently my father does too, as he smiles at me.

I don't know where we're going; I only know that my dad wants to teach me something. We walk for a long time, but I don't complain. I'm actually enjoying myself. Summer has just begun, and rays of sun stream through the canopy of trees above our heads. Calls of birds, as well as other animals, echo throughout the woods. I hear loud chirps come from treetops and smile. Just being out here makes me feel so…_alive_. It makes me forget about poor, grimy District 12, the Capitol, and the Hunger Games, if only for a little while.

My curiosity cannot be contained any longer and I'm about to ask where we're going just as we step into a clearing. My words are forgotten as I look at what lies ahead of me. A huge lake spreads in every direction. I can just make out the ruins of a small building on the shore nearest us. Large, rocky cliffs hang over the water, and I hear the sound of waves gently lapping at the small, sandy beach.

All in all, it's an amazing sight that's clearly been untouched by humans for decades, maybe centuries.

I feel eyes boring into the back of my head and I turn. My father's grin is contagious, and I laugh. "What_ is_ this place?" I marvel aloud.

"It's a lake I found a few years ago when I was hunting. I've been waiting until you were old enough so I could bring you here and teach you to swim," he explains, smiling.

I examine the smooth green-blue water. It looks like glass, and I wonder what lurks in its depths. Suddenly the lake doesn't seem so inviting. My father sees my slightly panicked expression and chuckles. "Don't worry. I won't let you drown," he promises.

I must still look skeptical, as he asks, "Don't you trust me?" Though I know the hurt I detect in his tone is fake, I still feel bad and quickly nod. "Yes. Of course I trust you, Daddy." I know this is the right thing to say, as he smiles warmly and wraps me in his arms.

When we pull away from our embrace a moment later, my father gets a glint in his grey eyes, the kind I know he gets when he has an idea. "Hey, little bird," he says, stooping down so we're at eye level with each other. "Want to have a picnic?"

I nod eagerly and he directs me towards a clump of blueberry bushes. I begin picking them as my father slings his bow over his back and makes sure his quiver is full.

"Where are you going?" I ask, curious.

"I'm going to go get some meat for our picnic. Don't worry, I'll be right back," Father responds, and I nod as he strides out of the clearing. He does this often. He'll go do something for a few minutes at a time and leave me alone. I'm glad he trusts me by myself in the woods, even if it is only for a few moments at a time.

Besides, I always have a knife on me when we come out here, and if a dangerous animal comes around, I can scale a tree in a matter of seconds.

I've picked several handfuls of blueberries and a fair amount of raspberries from another bush I found when my father comes out of the trees, whistling and holding up two fat squirrels and a rabbit. I grin and present him with my berries. "Good job, little bird," he compliments and we quickly begin to clean and skin the animals.

Once the animals are prepared my father fashions a simple spit from twigs and long, thick pieces of grass. I help him start a fire and we slowly cook the squirrels and the rabbit. My father carefully lays his hunting jacket on the ground, and when the animals are finished cooking, he sets them on it, making sure they stay off the grass. I take my berries and put them on the jacket as well. My father smiles at me before cutting the meat into small pieces. He arranges a decent sized chunk of rabbit and an even mix of blueberries and raspberries on one side of the jacket, while putting a slightly larger portion of food on the other. Grinning, he says, "Eat up, Katniss."

I do as he says, slowly chewing the tender rabbit meat, letting the grease ooze out. It feels nice to be eating food that's so filling. I enjoy the berries as well; the sweet, refreshing juice drips onto my tongue and leaves me feeling more energized. It's a very good picnic, and when we're done eating, my father and I lay back on our jackets, lazily watching the clouds drift across the sky.

I feel content as I lay there, my stomach full, happy and healthy. With the sun warming my face and slight breeze blowing, I begin drifting off. Something nudges my shoulder and I snap my eyes open to see my father looking at me. I raise my eyebrows and he smiles.

"Want me to sing, little bird?" Father asks me gently. I grin and nod vigorously, immediately wide awake. He takes a deep breath and begins, his deep, melodious voice making myself and all of the mockingjays fall silent instantly.

_"Deep in the meadow, under the willow_

_ A bed of grass, a soft green pillow_

_ Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes _

_ And when again they open, the sun will rise._

_Here it's safe, here it's warm_

_ Here the daises guard you from every harm_

_ Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you_

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away_

_A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray_

_Forget your woes and let your troubles lay_

_And when again it's morning, they'll wash away_

_Here it's safe, here it's warm_

_Here the daises guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you."_

The last note lingers in the air, causing me to shiver. I realize I'm holding my breath. A moment later, the mockingjays repeat the song from the treetops, their voices ringing out into the wilderness. We listen to it silently. I don't quite understand the meaning to the song, but I can tell that it means something to my father; his eyes are shining. "Daddy?" I ask him. "Why is this song special to you?"

He smiles at me. "My little bird," he says proudly. "Always so perceptive. I'll never be able to fool you, will I?" I grin and shake my head before telling him he didn't answer my question.

My father sighs in defeat. "I serenaded your mother with this song on our first date. It was the first time she ever heard me sing." He gazes into the distance, seemingly lost in memories of another time and place.

"What happened?" I ask curiously.

"Well," he begins slowly, "I was a poor Seam boy when I met your mom. She was a pretty blonde merchant; I never thought I'd ever have a chance with her. Especially because she had that baker boy always around; I was convinced they were dating for a long time." He says, and I get the sense that he's not so much talking to me anymore as recalling memories.

"I fell head over heels immediately. One day I went to school with flowers for your mom. I gave them to her and asked her out; she said yes. We went walking through the Meadow, and she told me she'd heard that I could sing well. I didn't want to, but your mom tricked me into singing for her," he smiles. "We were inseparable after that. We dated throughout high school and got married at eighteen, which upset some people, because she was from town and I was from the Seam, but your mother and I didn't care. Best choice I ever made," my father's voice drifts off and he smiles happily.

"Wow," I respond, not knowing what else to say. My father laughs.

"Yeah, wow." He grins and sits up abruptly. I look questioningly at him from my spot on the ground.

"Didn't I say I was going to teach you how to swim?" he asks, grabbing my hands and pulling me to my feet.

"Oh, right," I say, excited now as we head towards the lake. We kick off our shoes on the shore and step into the water. I let out a cry of surprise as the icy waves wash over my toes. My father gives me an apologetic smile as he heads deeper into the water. At this point he is several yards in and up to his waist. I'm standing ankle deep in the water, afraid to go in further. My father gestures for me to come closer, and I uncertainly walk until the waves reach my mid-calves.

"Come on, little bird. You can do this," my dad encourages, taking my hand and pulling my forward until the water is level with my belly button. "Now, let me show you the mechanics of it," he says.

He shows me how to kick my feet and use my arms to propel myself forward. I practice paddling around in the shallow water for a few minutes and find that I actually enjoy it. I go deeper into the water; it's at my collarbone now.

Swimming around more, I decide to take a risk and I dunk my head just beneath the surface. I come up for air immediately, not used to the sensation of being completely underwater, and instinctively glance around for my dad. He's not here. I spin around, expecting to find him behind me, only to be greeted with gently rolling waves in every direction. I start panicking, desperately kicking my feet to hold myself up; when I feel my foot come in contact with something solid. My dad's head pops up above the surface and he spits water everywhere. "You got me right in the gut!" he says, giving a teasing scolding look.

"I'm so sorry, Daddy!" I cry guiltily. My father shakes his head.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm fine," he smiles as if to show me he's really okay. I sigh, knowing he wouldn't admit it even if I had hurt him, and start swimming again.

My father and I swim for about another hour. I have a lot of fun; I'm glad he brought me here. Once we're done we all but drag ourselves to shore. I don't know about Father, but I'm exhausted, and ready to go home. He gives me a tired smile as we pack up our food and weapons. We each hoist our bags over our shoulders and begin the long trek back to District 12. This journey has a lot less talking; we need to save our breath.

After a couple of hours of walking in silence, we reach the fence. My dad throws our bags over it and helps me through, him following closely behind. I stand up and look at grimy District 12, and then longingly back at the forest. I want to run into it with my father, mother, and Prim and never come back, but I can't, because no matter how much I pretend we're free of the Capitol's confinement when we're hunting, we'll always have to come back and deal with the harsh reality of Panem.


End file.
